Spiral
by NyanWolf
Summary: Jughead's having nightmares again, only this time it seems impossible to wake up. Each time he opens his eyes everything only grows worse, and he's not sure what's real anymore either. (One-shot) (Bughead)


**Hi hi! This is my very first Riverdale fic and I'm super excited about it. I'm actually supposed to be on hiatus for the rest of my fandoms but I couldn't resist! Enjoy!**

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It was dark in the truest sense, in which neither outlines nor shades were visible. He tried to take a step forward, and realized that the darkness held weight. It was thick liquid that surrounded him.

And by the taste of it in his mouth he knew it was not water.

Still, he floated through it. A deep dread huddled in his stomach and ignited his anxiety. There was nothing around, so why was he so afraid? Time passed, or perhaps it didn't.

All he knew was the darkness and the heaviness and the taste. His naked body was shaking now, panicking. Why was he panicking? A shrill whistle suddenly pierced his ears and he opened his mouth to scream...

Jughead jolted awake with a gasp. He looked around frantically, raising his hands as if to fend off impending danger. Leftover fear rattled his every breath, but soon he placed a hand over his heart to calm himself.

He was sitting in the newsroom, and sticky notes clung to his cheeks. Jughead let out a shaky laugh as he ripped off the colored papers. He was fine. Of course he was fine. A brief look to his black monitor confirmed that his laptop was dead.

 _I must've been out for a while then; I swear I just charged that._

He stood up and shoved the possession into his satchel bag. He ran a hand over the back of his head, expecting to feel the coarse fabric of his beanie. His fingers were met instead with greasy knots of hair.

Juhead's eyes widened. Like an idiot, he patted all around his head as if it had swallowed the beanie whole. Nothing.

 _What the hell?_

He ran back to the desk and rifled through everything once, twice, three times. A pile of papers tumbled onto the floor but he didn't care. Where was it? He never took it off, so how could it be missing?

It couldn't have just disappeared so then...

So then someone must have taken it.

He hissed in frustration as the thought took hold. That was the only explanation, wasn't it? But who?

 _Reggie? Chuck? Cheryl maybe? Or one of his friends...Was it an innocent joke?_

Jughead turned on his heel and marched out into the hallway, determined to get some answers. But on exiting the newsroom he found that the corridors were desolate.

Every locker was closed and the floors were clean. He tried the handle on one of the classrooms and found it locked.

Had he been asleep so long as to be forgotten by the entire school? He didn't think so. And when he looked towards the windows the sky was still bright.

Confusion made him wary, but also curious. He walked through the deserted hallways, marveling at how loudly his shoes slapped against the floor. Most people might have been put off by the relative silence. But Jughead enjoyed the opportunity to sink inside his own head.

Only, he found that the further he walked, the less sense his thoughts made. It seemed a fog was settling over his head, but that didn't stop him from moving forward.

He walked much longer than he remembered the hallway being, and every classroom looked the same. Pressure seemed to build up in his chest and head. The anxiety from his dream was returning.

A part of him missed his hat so much it hurt, and he chastised himself for being so weak.

The pressure strengthened until it was becoming difficult to breathe. He felt so naked. The silence that was so pleasant earlier was now overpowering. He gasped for air, wrapping his arms around his stomach.

His feet walked on their own. Jughead wheezed. He couldn't help but think that this was the feeling from his dream. The pressure gave way to pain and he felt so dizzy. A bright light accompanied by a high-pitched whine started up. He honed in on it and could just make out words.

 _Wake up_

And he spiraled into darkness.

Jughead leaped out of his skin and felt his back arch painfully. He launched himself upright and clutched at his chest. His lungs ached with fear and panic as he hyperventilated underneath the soft pink blankets.

The sun shone through the massive window, soothing him slightly. Jughead bit his lip and sank back into the mattress, breathing in the scent of strawberry shampoo.

 _A dream within a dream...how weird. Almost Shakespearean._

"Did you have a nightmare again?" A familiar voice pulled him out of his thoughts. Jughead looked to his left and saw Betty lying next to him, smiling as brightly as the sun. Her hair flowed around her face like a halo, matching nicely with her pastel pajamas.

"Uh-um...yeah," Jughead muttered. Something felt off to him, but he couldn't quite place it. He furrowed his brow as Betty kissed him.

"Well cheer up Romeo. Oh, and remember you have to pick up Jellybean from school today."

"Jellybean?"

Betty laughed, resting her head on his shoulder.

"Your mom will kill you if you forget again."

"Y-yeah. Yeah I guess so..." Jughead stared hard at his surroundings, trying to understand what was wrong. He spotted his laptop on the desk, with his beanie strewn over it. He tilted his head. The beanie should have made him feel better, but its far proximity only disturbed him.

"Hey um...about the Jason thing...I was thinking maybe today we could-"

"Shhh," Betty hushed. "Come on now. Just because Jason Blossom's murder was the best thing that could ever happen to us, doesn't mean you should keep talking about it."

"What? No it's not...he was killed Betty how can you say that? We...we have to find out who did it," Jughead mumbled. He saw something foul shift behind Betty's eyes.

"Why? You don't want this to end do you? Why can't we just enjoy this Forsythe, hmm? Everything is always so doom and gloom with you."

"Betty I..." He stopped. Betty would never call him by his real name. She knew better than that...His eyes widened.

 _Wake up! Wake up!_

In one motion he catapulted himself out of bed, landing hard on the floor. Betty watched him with a hungry smile. Blood dripped from her palm.

"Why don't you admit it Forsythe? Why don't you just say it? Jason's death was your rebirth!"

There was that pressure again. Jughead suffocated as he scooted backwards. Something deep inside him told him to get the beanie. If he grabbed it everything would end. He'd be safe. He'd be home.

He reached up his hand, unable to look away from Betty's face. She didn't move, watching him. But her presence shook his very bones. His hand explored the desk as the room began to sway.

 _No no no no no!_

He moved faster. Where was it? He felt the keyboard and knew he was close. Darkness was closing in on his vision.

 _Come on!_

There! He brushed against the fabric just as everything faded into oblivion.

"DAMMIT DAMMIT NO!" Jughead found himself screaming as he opened his eyes for the umpteenth time. He lost control of his limbs and thrashed around wildly. Spit flew from his mouth while he hissed.

"NO!" He cried.

"JUGHEAD STOP!" Another voice yelled.

"Stop it you're having a nightmare!"

"Calm down!"

"NO! NO! No..." His anguish turned to sobs.

Pointy knees pressed down on his stomach and elbows held down his shoulders. Jughead panted like an animal, eyes rolling around as he tried to make sense of things.

He caught sight of grey-blue eyes and froze instantly. His breath hitched. Long black hair fell down from a face that looked like his, only feminine.

Tears seemed to replace blood and filled his entire body.

"Mom."

She was wearing his beanie, and Jughead knew immediately that he had not escaped this hell. But he couldn't feel the terror that governed him earlier. He couldn't feel anything, really.

"It's okay sweetie. I'm here. I'm here."

"Mom no...this isn't fair...this isn't," He choked. He looked at her long and hard, drinking in the apparition.

"It's alright Jughead. I love you so much."

Silence grew between the two until Mrs. Jones' eyes hardened.

"So why didn't you come with us?"

The question robbed Jughead of his air supply. He cried harder, reaching up pathetically to grab the hat off her head. His arm flopped back down, exhaustion creeping into him.

"Why did you stay here Jughead?"

"Please..."

"Why didn't you come?"

"No..."

"You could've been happy."

"Stop it! Stop it please!"

A flash of light burst in his eyes and when it passed his mother was gone. He was lying on the floor of Archie's house, with Vegas licking his face. Jughead stared straight up at the ceiling, defeated.

He became aware of loud music pulsing through the walls.

 _Oh...that's right. It's my birthday._

Blood snaked into his mouth from somewhere on his cheek. He realized that the music was not accompanied by voices.

 _Right...the fight._

The door opened and in walked Betty.

"Juggie? Hey are you okay?" She hurried over to crouch at his side. Jughead looked at her and flinched. He instinctively reached up to his head and felt only his hair.

Betty seemed to notice his panic and leaned closer. Her eyes narrowed in concern as she ran a hand down his jawline.

"What's wrong? What happened?"

"This isn't real...you're not real...my hat..." Jughead felt his head lighten.

"Hey calm down. Your hat's right next to you, okay? Everything's fine," Betty slowly picked up the grey lump and handed it to her shaking boyfriend. She looked just as frightened as he did.

Jughead all but snatched it from her hands and before she could even blink it was on his head. As soon as it was on he seemed to relax. Tears streamed down his cheeks in a wave of relief, and his entire body seemed to deflate.

"Oh my God!" He choked. "It's over!"

Betty said nothing, but scooped him up into her arms. She rubbed away his tears with her thumb. Jughead couldn't help but sink into her embrace. His thoughts ran rampant in his brain, creating a dull throb behind his eyes. He kept one hand on his hat, clutching it with all his strength as if loosening his grip even slightly, might unravel reality itself. He glanced up at Betty, suddenly overwhelmed by an overpowering urge to kiss her.

"I'm sorry for tonight. It's been such a huge mess..." She muttered.

"Yeah," Jughead agreed before seeing a look of bemused shock flash across Betty's face. "Erm, I mean, it-it wasn't all bad. Your singing was nice."

Betty broke into that smile he loved so much: shy and dorky, yet so full of light. Her laugh, infectious as always, brought out his own small chuckle. He shifted so that she didn't have to support his weight and opted for sitting next to her instead. He squeezed her hand tightly.

"You know, you never gave me a present," He smirked. Betty raised an eyebrow.

"I organized an entire party for you. Plus I baked that cake almost entirely by myself." She smiled, "Turns out Archie's better with a guitar than an oven."

"Sure but, there's still something I want."

"Oh really?"

"Mmm," Jughead hummed as he closed the distance between them. Her lips tasted like strawberries as usual, and their softness contrasted with his cracked ones. He felt her fingers dance in his hair. He made an effort to be slow, taking time to fully experience every inch of her mouth. Betty returned the favor, and as they pulled away strings of saliva connected their lips.

Betty tugged off his beanie and twirled it in her hands.

"You know sometimes I forget that it even comes off," She said playfully. Jughead shrugged.

"Security blanket."

"Still, you look good without it."

"You're too kind Betty Cooper."

Betty smiled again. She stood up and pulled on a jacket. Jughead followed her example.

"Pop's?" He asked. She nodded and pulled the beanie over her own hair. Jughead laughed, but quieted when her gaze turned sorrowful.

"You know, I'm not perfect," She said as they made their way out into the cold night. The moon was still rising in the darkness, and they were the only two out to witness it. Wind blew through the trees, and orange lights flickered out in the houses that lined the road. The whole evening was picturesque, so serene that anyone who'd never heard of Riverdale would never have thought that it could contain so much treachery.

Even as they walked, Jughead had to remind himself that this was the same town where a teenager was murdered. He held Betty's hand tighter and looked up at the stars.

"Everyone's a moon, Betty," He quoted. She sighed contentedly. Something flashed behind her eyes.

"Happy Birthday...Forsythe."

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 **Yay! It's done! Please review!**

 **Wolf Out...**


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